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Urge all thy pow'rs to make thy passion prosper :
But wrong not mine.

Pol. Heaven blast me if I do.

Cast. If't prove thy fortune, Polydore, to conquer, (For thou hast all the arts of soft persuasion) Trust me, and let me know thy love's success, That I may ever after stifle mine.

Pol. Though she be dearer to my soul than rest To weary pilgrims, or to misers gold,

To great men pow'r, or wealthy cities pride,
Rather than wrong Castalio, I'd forget her.
For if ye pow'rs have happiness in store,
When ye would show'r down joys on Polydore,
In one great blessing all your bounty send,
That I may never lose so dear a friend.


[Exeunt Castalio and Polydore.


Mon. So soon return'd from hunting? This fair day
Seems as if sent to invite the world abroad.
Pass'd not Castalio and Polydore this way?
Page. Madam, just now.

Mon. Sure some ill fate's upon me.
Distrust and heaviness sit round my heart,
And apprehension shocks my timorous soul.
Why was not I laid in my peaceful grave
With my poor parents, and at rest as they are?
Instead of that, I'm wand'ring into cares.
Castalio! Oh, Castalio! thou hast caught

My foolish heart; and, like a tender child,
That trusts his play-thing to another hand,
I fear its harm, and fain would have it back.
Come near, Cordelio. I must chide you, sir.

Page. Why, madam, have I done you any wrong? Mon. I never see you now; you have been kinder ? Sat by my bed, and sung me pretty songs; 241 Perhaps I've been ungrateful. Here's money for you: Will you oblige me? Shall I see you oft❜ner?

Page. Madam, I'd serve you with my soul: "But in the morning when you call me to you, "As by your bed I stand, and tell you stories, "I am asham'd to see your swelling breasts, "It makes me blush, they are so very white.

"Mon. Oh, men! for flatt'ry and deceit renown'd! "Thus, when y'are young, ye learn it all like him, "'Till as your years increase, that strengthens too, "T'undo poor maids, and make our ruin easy." Tell me, Cordelio, for thou oft hast heard Their friendly converse, and their bosom secrets; Sometimes, at least, have they not talk'd of me?

Page. Oh, madam, very wickedly they have talk'd! But I am afraid to name it; for, they say,

Boys must be whipp'd that tell their master's secrets.


Mon. Fear not, Cordelio; it shall ne'er be known;
For I'll preserve the secret as 'twere mine.
Polydore cannot be so kind as I.

I'll furnish thee with all thy harmless sports,
With pretty toys, and thou shalt be my page.
Page. And truly, madam, I had rather be so.

Methinks you love me better than my lord;
For he was never half so kind as you are.
What must I do?

Mon. Inform me how thou'st heard

Castalio, and his brother, use my name.

Page. With all the tenderness of love;
You were the subject of their last discourse.
At first I thought it would have fatal prov'd;
But as the one grew hot, the other cool'd,
And yielded to the frailty of his friend;
At last, after much struggling, 'twas resolv'd-
Mon. What, good Cordelio ?

Page. Not to quarrel for you.

Mon. I would not have 'em; by my dearest hope,

I wou'd not be the argument of strife.

But surely my Castalio won't forsake me,
And make a mock'ry of my easy love.
Went they together?

Page. Yes, to seek you, madam.
Castalio promis'd Polydore to bring him
Where he alone might meet you,

And fairly try the fortune of his wishes.


Mam. Am I then grown so cheap, just to be made A common stake, a prize for love in jest?

Was not Castalio very loth to yield it?
Or was it Polydore's unruly passion,
That heighten'd the debate?

Page. The fault was Polydore's.

Castalio play'd with love, and smiling shew'd
The pleasure, not the pangs of his desire.


He said, no woman's smiles should buy his freedom; And marriage is a mortifying thing.

Mon. Then I am ruin'd, if Castalio's false. Where is there faith and honour to be found?

Ye gods that guard the innocent, and guide
The weak, protect, and take me to your care.


Oh, but I love him! There's the rock will wreck me!
Why was I made with all my sex's softness,

Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies?
I'll see Castalio, tax him with his falshoods,
Be a true woman, rail, protest my wrongs;
Resolve to hate him, and yet love him still.

Enter CASTALIO and POLYDORE alone.

He comes, the conqueror comes! lie still, my heart, And learn to bear thy injuries with scorn.

Cast. Madam, my brother begs he may have leave To tell you something that concerns you nearly. I leave you, as becomes me, and withdraw.

Mon. My lord, Castalio!

Cast. Madam ?

Mon. Have you purpos'd

To abuse me palpably? What means this usage?

Why am I left with Polydore alone?

Cast. He best can tell you. Business of importance

Calls me away; I must attend my father.

Mon. Will you then leave me thus ?

Cast. But for a moment.

Mon. It has been otherwise; the time has been,


When business might have staid, and I been heard.

Cast. I could for ever hear thee; but this time Matters of such odd circumstances press me,

That I must go


Mon. Then go, and, if't be possible, for ever.
Well, my Lord Polydore, I guess your business,
And read the ill-natur'd purpose in your eyes.
Pol. If to desire you more than misers wealth,
Or dying men an hour of added life;
If softest wishes, and a heart more true
Than ever suffer'd yet for love disdain'd,
Speak an ill nature, you accuse me justly.

Mon. Talk not of love, my Lord, I must not hear it. Pol. Who can behold such beauty and be silent? Desire first taught us words. Man, when created, At first alone long wander'd up and down,

Forlorn, and silent as his vassal-beasts;

But when a heav'n-born maid, like you, appear'd,
Strange pleasures fill'd his eyes, and fir'd his heart, 340
Unloos'd his tongue, and his first talk was love.
Mon. The first created pair indeed were bless'd;
They were the only objects of each other,
Therefore he courted her, and her alone:
But in this peopled world of beauty, where
There's roving room, where you may court, and ruin
A thousand more, why need you talk to me?

Pol. Oh! I could talk to thee for ever.
Eternally admiring, fix and gaze


On those dear eyes; for every glance they send Darts through my soul, and almost gives enjoyment.

Man. How can you labour thus for my undoing?

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